


Ol' Blue Eyes

by mishallaneously



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Artist!Dean, M/M, Professor!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3298937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishallaneously/pseuds/mishallaneously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a painter whose world is literally turned upside down when he meets Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ol' Blue Eyes

 

 

Dean is a painter, both the artistic kind and the kind that paints houses, he only really makes money doing the latter, but what can you do. He meets Castiel one day when he literally turns his world upside down. Castiel, this passionate professor of comparative literature at the local university who nearly walks right into Dean’s ladder while walking with his nose in a book. Dean luckily hears the guy coming, he’s muttering to himself and he kinda scuffs his feet while he walks, and shouts at him to watch out. It’s too little too late and they both end up on the ground, Dean on top of Cas, the can of paint- “White on White,” Dean recalls- upended on Dean’s head and splattered all over Castiel’s clothes and, most tragically, his book. 

He apologizes profusely to Dean who shrugs it off- “Hazard of the job, what can you do?”- and helps Castiel to his feet. Castiel smiles sheepishly all while cradling his tarnished book. Dean offers to make it up to him, politely disregarding Castiel’s complaints that it was completely his own fault, and asks Castiel to lunch the following day at a little book shop cafe that they both coincidentally frequent with the promise that he will purchase Castiel a new book. 

The date- though Dean swears to his brother, Sam, that it’s no such thing- goes off without a hitch. The conversation goes smoothly and Cas accepts the new book with only a little protest. It’s at that small little table in the coffee shop, the surface stained with the evidence of a coaster-less establishment and the leg that’s a little too short so the table wobbles every now and then, that Dean notices the color of Cas’ eyes. They’re blue, but he can’t figure out  _what_ blue. He cycles through the paint chips in his mind, he’s memorized them all, trying to find the best one. At the end of their meal, Dean gives Cas a hug and, trying one of the paint chip names on for size, says, “See you later, Ol’ Blue Eyes.” Cas’ face screws up in confusion, but Dean laughs and walks away. 

 

Each time Dean sees Cas he falls in love with him a little more. The passionate way he describes Shelley’s prose or Vonnegut’s satire is like a symphony, the words wash over him and make his heart swell, Castiel is so smart and so passionate that Dean could kiss him. And he does. Many times. But what captivates him the most is Cas’ eyes, the color he can’t label and the way Cas communicates so much through each look. Each time, Dean gives Cas a new nickname selected from his book of blue paint chips. 

After they see their first movie together- their second date-Dean kisses Cas chastely on his front doorstep and whispers, “Goodnight, Blue Feather.” Castiel blushes furiously, and it’s worth it despite how cheesy Dean feels. 

When Castiel surprises Dean with lunch one day as he’s painting the interior of the same house Dean’s cheeks hurt from smiling. He mutters, “You’re one of a kind, Sea Ridge” against Cas’ lips in between kisses. 

"Royal Peacock" is used through feigned anger and with chattering teeth at the beach after Cas pushes Dean in despite his protests that "it’s February and I’m not going swimming, you’re cold-blooded, the water is  _not_  warm.” 

Dean can’t focus on Marley and Me when they watch it on Dean’s large leather couch one weekend. Instead he keeps glancing at Cas as he watches, enraptured by the movie, and sobbing unabashedly by the end. Dean holds him in his arms and musses his hair, “You’re a big softy, aren’t you, Tear Drop?” He teases. Castiel glares at him, his eyes watery, but there’s affection written in the lines of his face and the upward turn of his mouth.

The day Castiel’s mother makes her monthly phone call, Castiel pounds on Dean’s door and barges in when he opens it. He shrugs off Dean’s placating hands and fumes. He glowers, his eyes dark. “She picks apart every detail of my life and criticizes me for it! If this is her attempt at having a relationship then I want no part of it. I don’t want monthly phone calls where the transcript would read like a negative movie review about my choices and my lifestyle.” He slumps on the couch and Dean lets him cool off before he sets down a cup of that herbal tea garbage for Cas.

He slings his arm over Cas’ shoulder and draws him in, “Parents suck, if they didn’t they wouldn’t be parents, would they?” Cas grumbles in response. “Listen, I want you to chin up, Rain Storm, because you are not a cheap movie filled with C-list actors that gets a 27% on Rotten Tomatoes. You are an academy award nominated, best picture, guaranteed fresh work of art and you are mine.”  

"Why do you insist on calling me the names of your paint chips?" Castiel asks one day after Dean dubbs him "Serene Sky." They’re laying on their backs watching the clouds go by, arms folded behind their heads. 

"It’s so you think I’m poetic." Dean turns toward him and grins. It’s not entirely true, but it’s not wrong either. Dean is a hopeless romantic at heart despite how he protests the contrary whenever Sam says so. 

"I do, Dean, trust me. Your words have moved even me, a man that has studied and still toils endlessly over the greatest works from the greatest poets of all time." There’s a wry sarcasm to his tone, but Dean doesn’t doubt his sincerity. "But why do you do it, why really?" 

Dean sighs. He knew this was going to come up eventually, but he’s not ready, he’s not  _done_  yet. “I’ll tell you later, Riverside Blue. Promise.” Cas purses his lips at Dean but nods nonetheless and moves so his head is resting on Dean’s chest. 

"I enjoy it, though. Just so you know." 

"I know you do, cause you’re a big softy, aren’t ya, Ol’ Blue Eyes?" Dean nudges him playfully as he reuses one of his favorite nicknames. Castiel laughs softly. 

"Keep those eyes shut, Dreaming Blue." Dean warns as he leads Cas through his house. 

"They are, though I don’t know why I should bother when your hands are quite literally clamped over my eyes." Cas mutters dryly. 

"Extra precaution. Can never be too careful with you, can I?" Dean says as he steers Cas into his studio.

"I don’t know where you got that impression, but sure, why not?" They come to a stop in the middle of the room. Cas looks around blindly, Dean’s hands still covering his eyes. 

"Keep ‘em closed." Dean says as he removes his hands. He goes to stand next to his easel where a large painting is set, covered by a beige tarp. Cas, true to his word, keeps his eyes firmly shut. Dean takes a shaky breath before he says,"Alright, you can open ‘em."

Castiel tentatively opens one eye and then the other, confusion written over his face as he finds himself in the middle of Dean’s admittedly cramped and paint splattered studio. Dean waits a beat before he removes the tarp and uncovers the painting.

Castiel gasps and rushes forward for a better look. He reaches out as if to touch the canvas but thinks better of it. Instead his eyes scan the painting, darting back and forth, before he looks up at Dean. “Dean, what is this? This is spectacular.”

"It’s you. It’s all of you." The painting is a portrait of Cas, him sitting at a table, his nose in a book and a faint smile on his lips. "It’s um, it’s from our first date. Well, I said it was just a lunch, but it was a date." Dean says nervously. 

"Dean, I don’t know what to say… It’s too much." Cas’ eyes are filled with wonder.

"Well, there’s more. Um, you asked about the paint chip nickname thing and uh, this is the reason." He gestures to the painting, the painting that is made entirely out of different shades of blue. "All of those names, they’re all a part of you, I could never pin you down, define you, so I decided you were everything, you were all the definitions, all the blues. You’re everything." Dean shrugs. 

"Dean… I-" Cas’ voice is wavering and Dean can see his eyes are bright with tears. He glows with pride.

"And uh, all of those things, they’re kinda what you are to me, y’know?" Dean waits a second and then continues. "You’re my Blue Sky, my Cloudy Day, my Rainstorm. You’re Ocean Spray and you’re White Caps, you’re my Endless Blue and my Stars Forever. My Blue Angel, you are my whole world, you are everything and above all you’re mine. My Ol’ Blue Eyes." 

Castiel pulls Dean toward him and envelopes him a long, passionate kiss. He tears away finally, his lips red and his eyes a bit blurred from tears and says,”And you called me a softy? Dean Winchester, you are the biggest sap I have ever known, and it is a privilege to love you.” 

Dean blushes then, and if he had to pick, his cheeks are probably a similar color to Coming Up Roses.


End file.
